30 December 2010


My day ends as yours begins
And the sun has yet to
Rev it's celestial engine
To melt the glassy ground,
Frozen by the cold heart
Of the night, and maybe
A little bit of slushy rain.

Despite the frigid ice below,
Crackling under my heavy weight
The air is docile, percolated
Only by the residual droplets
Of water falling from treecicles.
I wonder why I'm up this early
Or if I'm "up" if I didn't lay down.

I see windows filled with light
Dotting the dark down the street.
It is a foreign world to me, Dawn,
And I find myself enamoured by
The introspection it allows.
Unlike the rest of our fast-paced world
There is a chance to forget about Time.

Time Capsule #1

Dear Future Trey,

Look back on this years from now and laugh. Laugh at how we differ in our perceptions of the world. Laugh about how it mattered immensely to find somebody to love. Realize that you've become cold, but also realize that you're in control of how you live your life. Don't ever get old. Not too old, anyways. Just progressively more wise. Smack yourself on the forehead for me, because no matter what age we are, it is just in our nature to feel as though we already know everything in the world. Become a dad, and a damn good one at that. Somewhere between the "cool dad" and the guy the kids fear and respect just enough to always maintain authority. You better have published a masterpiece or I'm going to be severely disappointed. Hopefully you've kept that eternal optimism I tote with me so openly. There isn't much to complain about in life and if you play your cards right, everything usually works out. Write a book of letters back and forth from youthful Trey to an older Trey. Notice that I didn't say more mature, because I don't know if that will ever happen for sure. Think back to all of the girls who broke your heart and all those who you broke. Make sure that you apply some sort of lesson to every mistake. Make enough money to live, and spend enough to be happy. No need to hoard it, you can't take it with you when you die. Buy yourself a Porsche. Spite your old man who's wanted one his whole life, or maybe, if you're doing really well or don't give a shit about cars anymore, buy it for him. It'll make him feel young again. That's all for now. Write me back describing all the immense, prolific and painful things you come across. I'll be waiting forever.

Trey C.

29 December 2010

The Concentric Ripples of a Mirror

As we dream day in
And out there exists--
A hope for the uncertain
Tomorrow. I try not predict
What events may transpire,
For it would mean, in essence,
To wound the spontaneity
Of what remains unknown.
So while we aspire to create
From the limitless bounds
Of our expanded minds feeble,
The horizon of our children's
Fiery forbidden youth.
Keep in mind that
The reality in which we leave
Them may be less favourable
Than the sanctum of
What is dreamt.
"And as I conclude my days,
Alone as I ever was...
You may disturb my sleep,
But please don't wake me up."


A little wintertime romance for all you lonely readers out there...

You're the perfect
Progression of chords.
In a way that our notes
Harmonize, parallel.
With each thought that
Enters and exits my mind.
It's the same feeling I get,
When watching the snowfall
From the warmth of inside.
As I press my hand to the glass
And feel the frigid warmth.
You wisp me up and break
Me back down in
Muted, beautiful silence.
Then you pluck again
The strings that drive
My soul and I know
The happy ending is

28 December 2010

Words I Wish I Could Use in Writing

  • Desenrascanco (Portuguese): A phrase used to describe an improvised solution to a problem at the last minute, without premeditation and few simple resources. It literally means to disentangle oneself from a bad situation. 
  • Tatemae and Honne (Japanese): So I cheated, these are two separate words used to describe what one pretends to believe and what one actually believes, respectively.
  • Shlimazl (Yiddish): Someone who encounters nothing but bad fortune.
  • Espirit d'escalier (French): Literally meaning "the wit of the staircase," this phrase describes the act of discovering a perfect retort in hindsight to a situation.
  • Saudade (Portuguese): A introspective and deep emotional state of longing for something an individual was, at one time, very fond of but now has lost.
  • Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan): A look between two individuals that suggests an unspoken, shared desire.
  • Sgriob (Gaelic): The tingling sensation that subjugates the upper lip just before taking a sip of whiskey.
  • Filotimo (Greek): This phrase is one of the most difficult to translate from it's Greek origin. Essentially translating to "love of honor," this phrase demonstrates the capacity of a male to always act or insist on acting in a manner that will most bring him pride, and dissuade an individual from performing any actions that will diminish that sense of pride or honor. (e.g not allowing a woman to purchase him food or drink, as this would exemplify that he is not manly or successful enough to be able to instead purchase said item for her, therefore diminishing his self-worth.)
  • Stam (Hebrew): A communal agreement between those talking that there is no satisfactory answer. Usually this derives out of a combination of amusement and frustration for the situation.
  • Forelsket (Norwegian): The euphoria or ecstasy one experiences when first falling in love.
  • Waldeinsamkeit (German): The feeling of being alone in the woods.
  • Ilunga (Tshiluba, Congo): A phrase describing an individual who can forgive abuse once, tolerate it on the second occasion, but never in its third instance.
  • Taarradhin (Arabic): A way of resolving a problem without anyone losing. It is not the same as the English word 'compromise' as in this situation, everybody wins.
  • Litost (Czech): A state of distress created by the realization of one’s own misery or self-depreciation.
  • Meraki (Greek): To do something with soul, creativity, or love.
  • Duende (Spanish): To perform at one's highest aptitude or demonstrate the extent of the human spirit through a performance or work of art. Typically fulfilled by the likes of flamenco dancing, bull-fighting, etc.

26 December 2010

Carpe Noctum

Is it ever daylight?
Despite my erratic sleep
Patterns. At least I make note
I feel the onset of
A headache when finally
I come across the veiled sun
Behind the skyward blanket.
I've become a man of the night
In these recent years,
As my dreams are haunted
By things worse than demons,
Like my failures and lost loves.
So instead I orchestrate
My own imagined worlds
Where the blank page
Is my world to be,
My words the tool I sculpt with
And where I surely have more
Than 7 days in which to finish.


I'm waning slowly into the dark
Like the moon high above
In the post-hype of
Last week's total eclipse.
Thinking on to futures
That have yet to exist
And roads untravelled.
Where do they take me?
I care not, for I believe
Of sanctity in mile markers
And sanity in going 15 over.
To the corners of our country
Though nothing is determinate.

I've been told by people
More boring than myself
To seek a more stable future
For the sake of my family
Or the potential to find one.
And I look back at them
Into their eyes jejune
And think without speaking
Don't doubt what I already know.

24 December 2010


From the new desk of Trey Campbell on his ultra-portable Acer Aspire One:

I've been considering long and hard what it means to leave something behind. I've by no means abandoned my trusty Macbook Pro, yet I find myself greatly intrigued with this new device. It isn't nearly as powerful, has a fair share of glitches and the keyboard is borderline too small for my fingers. At the same time, I've found myself working on it for hours to manage the resources properly, fix the glitches and learn to type in a new way, so I could post to you, my loyal readers. So what exactly leads an individual to leave something behind, something that works perfectly well? Are we really so shallow a society that we need the latest, shiniest update to look at? Maybe it is our attempt to keep up with the figurative Jones'. Regardless, our society is never content with the status quo. It is both our greatest strength and primeval weakness. It drives our innovative brains forward to developments unimaginable. This desire has cured disease, saved resources and forced our world into a global view. No longer are we limited to our local regions. The world is at our fingertips because of this trait. At the same time, we've produced a lot waste as we dispose of what isn't "good" enough anymore. Things that could be re-purposed instead sit on our shelves collecting dust. So, on the eve of a holiday focused on giving, consider what it means to be in possession of the latest and greatest. Of course, I'm not asking you to change your lifestyle; there are pros and cons to each outlook. Just keep it in mind, enjoy the holidays, find a way to relax (mine is blogging!), bundle up, get cozy with somebody and look for the best that life has to offer.

22 December 2010

No Questions At This Time? Please.

Is it possible? That a physical location can be hallowed? That a certain part of the world has some weaker barrier between what we know as reality and something transcendent? In a world as fast-paced as ours, who really takes the time to slow down and understand these questions? Is it possible that I could write an entire blog post written only in question? I don't know, but it makes me consider from time to time why, when I'm in a certain place I can potentially write for hours and hours, despite it being no different than the couch I fall asleep on all too often in my apartment? We receive all this formal training in school, but at what cost? It calls into question why we are all so part of a socially constructed system? Historically, have there not been individuals who are not self-taught? Surely, seeing as, correct me if I'm wrong, nobody taught the guy in the beginning, right? So why is it that I'm wasting my time and money sitting around classrooms instead of travelling and honing my voice through my own methods? Is it because that would require an indefinite amount of time, money and talent, to which I arguably lack? Or perhaps it is my own fault, because I lack a confidence in my ability to prevail over the "system"? Perhaps I didn't realize what I wanted until I'd come this far into the system, thus making it one of necessity in the individual's quest to learn? How'd I get so off track? Is a location sacred because it channels the muses of dead writer's gone? Or is it psychosomatic, where we create this perception of inspiration because it aided those inhabiting the land before it? Or is everything psychosomatic, a long dream in which we will only awaken and rise when we fade into the surly grip of Death?

So many questions, and for each, an answer?

The Color of Self-Actualization

I yearn to find the sacred place
Where sand and stairs and stars all meet
The venn diagram of my broken dreams
My frequent flyer card maxed on points
In vain, for the blackout dates impede.
The progress stands in remiss
As money colors green our hearts
And dreams fade into lustful obsession
To get more. More. MORE!
So when you reach two roads in a yellow wood
Look inside for your compass
And guide yourself true
Or risk a life where fulfillment
Comes solely to your wallet.
Those who believe, and actually believe
Loathe the concept of playing it safe
For with the stringing of a safety net
Comes a kindred soul.
When can one feel the best kind of alive...
If there is no thrill of failure.
Walk the tightrope over the throes of life
And look down if you want.
Find balance in that which you love
And waste time with it as I do now.

Past and Present: Spencer's Defense

To write with such constraint is to dissuade
All but the most of witty poet's hand.
Into the mainstream it cannot pervade
This archaic method we will remand...
Or 'gainst the test of time will it withstand?
Surely as man demeans the written word
He will try and portray this form as canned.
Yet us warriors of words will have preferred
Discover in its beauty inspiration spurred.

Sleeping Standing Up

I'm battling the snow to make my way home
Its persistent flakes try and misguide me
As I step in prints that already be made
But whose existence some will cease to be

My feet may be larger but the path remains
As true of a soldier who seeks peace
The varying direction may be fleeting
For the winter white lacks a cerise.

To Be Continued...

21 December 2010

Dark Is The Night

The shadow of God passes us above,
A swarm of color that's blacker than black,
The eclipse burns dark like a tarnish'd love
While the innocent tilt their heads far back
And their souls touch the blanket o'er top
Like lemmings yearning for shadowy death
As star's tears repress and fail to drop
And the cool night gale yields but a breath.

Here's to you, darkest night in 456 years. Now may the night grow even darker as my eyelids become heavier. Goodnight moon, wherever you're hiding.

18 December 2010

Decisions Decisions

I was recently inspired and challenged to write a short piece on-the-whim with no real intent, bur rather to write and see where it took me. Here is what I came up with, a short piece on a youthful man contemplating the options of his future. Thanks for the inspiration. :)

His life was in the quintessential limbo that so many of our generation experience at the conclusion of college. Where would the road lead next? Uncertainty had become a nagging whisper in his ear, and while seeking stability in a time when it was far and few between, that nagging became at least a sliver of comfort. One thing that he still had in his favor were options. His education and careful planning allotted him the freedom to explore many different careers for as long or short as he so desired. Sure, he had friends who would walk out of college making 100k a year. Would they be happy? Perhaps. 

That kind of security wasn't worth the risk of a mundane life to him, though. Some would consider him a free-spirit. Not looking to be tied to one job or location for too long. The world is far too vast a place to be limited to a handful of square miles, and to live and conclude life without experiencing as much as humanly possible seemed an outrageous notion. At the same time though, there was always the lingering fear in the back of his mind that he'd end up alone. A man with all the stories in the world to tell, with distant friends scattered to all corners of the globe, yet have no family to show for it; nobody to come home to and share all of the highs and lows of these trips. It seemed as though there had never been more binary a decision in life. It would be most selfish to blend the two, living a life where he asked his family to uproot themselves for his own benefit. At the same time, he would be doing himself a disservice to not go out and live.

Fortunately, there was still time to make those decisions. Nobody was holding a gun to his head, and even if they were, he'd have a lot to show for the life he'd lived thus far. Nothing ahead of us is guaranteed, meaning the importance drawn from these irrational thoughts of tomorrow is that the only way to live is in the now. No need to dwell on the past, nor hypothesize about a future which has not yet happened. The only thing that he can count on right now is being here in the now, experiencing the kind of life he loves, perhaps with her.

16 December 2010

Higher Flight

Higher Flight
by Trey Campbell

Again I have reached the ends of the Earth
And seen the fog that leads to worlds beyond;
The uncertain future of man's rebirth
To the depths of space where we will abscond.
On moons and near stars we will make our homes,
A new frontier that is for the taking.
As we forge new life in protective domes
And explore what else that may need waking...

Where we'll surely conquer the vast terrain,
And take over these lands like a cancer.
Bringing our problems to this place arcane --
Though we may hope for a tranquil future.
Where in our travels we'll find the answer,
And stich up our Past's wounds with a suture.

This poem is dedicated to the fearless crew of the space shuttle Challenger. Look ahead where we have yet to discover and rest peacefully among the stars above.


Song of the Moment: The Glitch Mob - Starve the Ego, Feed the Soul

by Trey Campbell

There lies within us all
The ability to relive
And change that which we
Wish to forget.
Though we should never forget
What makes us as we are now.
But just in case we so choose
There exists the ability
To reboot the system, so to speak.
And when we flip that switch,
The slate wipes clean,
Leaving only distant memories
Of the world past.
But with the rise of what's new,
Be weary, for even in infinite wisdom
The temptation and yearning
Towards the new journey
Can be misleading.
Life remains the same,
And although we may change
Don't flip that switch too many times,
And forget what makes you,
Who you are to another.

15 December 2010


Song of the Moment: The Big Pink - Dominos

This chapter soon concludes
In lieu of the next big drop
The next great high
That comes with the territory
Of January 1st.
So let's put December behind us
And look into our respective futures.
I think I'll be alright, yeah.
No time to waste like the present,
Yet we'll never get it back again...

13 December 2010

A Good Day

Song of the Moment: Above & Beyond Present Oceanlab - On a Good Day

A Good Day
by Trey Campbell

Half a day has passed,
And what to show of it?
Hours wasted, or memories made?
I lose my inspiration with each
Passing tick of the second hand
Yet gaining motivation
As the time counts down
Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.
At least my demeanor is good
To do both hard work and play
The ebb and flow of my voice
Either questioning literature
Or why I ate an entire bag of chips.
I completed many more important
Things than the mundane tasks
Of academia.
Like laundry, or cooking burgers
Or cleaning the radioactive floor
Of my bedroom.
I shaved my face and drank beer
In the shower, that's multitasking.
I didn't purchase anything, meaning
I've the capacity to be frugal.
I talked to friends and went to the gym.
So despite it being 12 hours later,
Today was a good day.

12 December 2010

11 December 2010

Hot Pursuit

More and more empty bottles
Trying to fill a liquid void
From one container to another
Though we both end up empty.

Call me selfish,
Or tell me about my problems,
Instead of worrying what's wrong
With your own vices.

I apologize in advance for
My thrill-seeking lifestyle.
It will certainly be my most
Devastating downfall.

I search out the next adventure
But maybe I'm just chasing the high.


10 December 2010

Dazed and Confused

Today, distance was obscured by fog
Although the weather was cloudless.
I try and not consider the global view
In favor of living in each moment
For it could very well be my last.

So familiar and so alien a notion
To determine one's own worth
Because we may be judgmental
It is easy in ways to criticize ourselves
And in others, we hone our ability
To lie, internally, until we begin
To believe our own lies
And consequently, in ourselves.



The more I feel free
The more alone I get
As life fulfills around
Me, I remain a lone wolf
And likely for the better
As I know what I can do.
Mend the most broken heart
Or damage it irreversibly.
Yes, there is no room for a
Respect for myself when
I know it to be true that,
There exists one like myself,
The creator of dreams
But also of nightmares.
Consider this fair warning,
Where you get me candid, untested
My will is free to express
That which I otherwise would withhold.
A hopeless romantic in a fear-driven world,
Where you all fare better without...

08 December 2010

The Spirit of the Holidays

The Spirit of the Holidays
by Trey Campbell

The muse of winter croons the chilly song
A fair warning that now is the time to
Bring out the shovels, coats and cocoa
Where home is more than just a bed
But the warmth of family and fireplaces
An oasis of hope in the mundane
Winter depression, the light of the sun
Substituted by the colored crystals decorating
The tree and trim, or the several candles
Burning bright through the day and night
Guiding the way of those who're lost
So that they can once again, believe
In the hopes of a new tomorrow
Where the skies aren't so grey and
The wind not as sharp, so that one
May hear the birds chirp on naked branch.
Nobody is a loner, not if they don't want to
Not during these happy, merry, wonderful


I've been slacking.

Just some thoughts...

Is emulating unoriginal
Or innovative?
Trying to stir a competitive edge
To the unrivaled champion.
Yet, there will always be those
Who hate the next best thing.

06 December 2010


by Trey Campbell

Waiting, waiting, waiting
I'm always pushing the limits
The boundaries of what is feasible
Physically, mentally, emotionally
No time for sleep, no time for work
Because I only get either when
There isn't enough left.
Call me a pressure player
But I like feeling the heat
In an otherwise cold world.

03 December 2010

The Antikythera Mechanism

The Antikythera Mechanism
by Trey Campbell

This barren wasteland
Naked and splattered with snow
The hardened rock remains cold
And plentiful
As far as my eyes dare to look.
There she is!
Hopping around the uneven terrain
Below her mocassined feet.
The white dress camouflaging her
Shifting like a snow leopard
Across the barren land.
Where is she going?
What is she looking for?
Diligent and determined
As the omnipresent environment
Around her shifts and distorts.
The moment of beauty passes,
But my keen memory of her remains
The girl who stopped the planet for seconds
Before the struggling return of the Fog;
Into the world surrounding us all.
Harmonizing simplicity and chaos.
Tranquility and supreme danger.

This is the third in my set of BT's "This Binary Universe" poetry. This piece, which is titled after the Ancient Greek calculator thought to be the first computer, consists of BT's ambient melodies juxtaposed with a powerful 110-piece orchestra. For my inspiration, I watched the video associated with the piece, as BT has commissioned an equally ambient and abstract video to correspond to each of his seven tracks.

01 December 2010

All That Makes Us Human Continues

The gentle first snowfall
And the cold, windy precipice
Contradict one another, war and peace.
Non-respectively, of course.
And while each flake tones
The respective sharp bells
A xylophone of intricate crystals
Melting upon contact with our warmth.
The warmth that is powered by our souls.
Each drum of our heart like a bass kick
Deep, powerful, unrivaled
I try to interfere with gravity
As I contort my neck back.
Time slows and the world around me fades
And all that remains are me
The sidewalk under my feet
And the snowy sky above.
I try to feel each flake hit my face
A combustion of hot and cold
This Binary Universe as we invent
For in my experiment,
I've resulted in water.

This is my continuation of the BT "This Binary Universe" poetry set for the week, as inspired by the album. I plan on writing a piece to associate with each of the 7 songs on the album. I hope you enjoy what I've done, as I've drawn heavy inspiration from each song.

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